Wolf Who Cried, "Boy!" [subject to change]
by Plumminimity
Summary: Jack gets hurt and uses his 'handicap' to get himself a girl... or two... or twelve... until he crosses the line, and a certain borough leader sets out to... well, read and you'll find out. [very, very in-progress]


Wolf Who Cried, "Boy!"  
  
"Race, Race, yer no match fer me!" Jack said, holding the brothel door for the italian newsboy. "I went t'rough three, count 'em, threeeeee ladies and you could only handle one. Ha!"  
  
"Jack, dey ain't considered ladies if dey'se prostitutes. And if I remember right, da foist two ran screaming and the thoid was comatose."  
  
"Yeah, but I got her ta move her eyes!" Jack excitedly replied, skipping towards the lodging house. "Deluded fool," muttered Race as he pretended not to know him. "Acts like he can't get goil or prostitute alike widout me holdin' his hand an' pickin 'em out fer him. Hell, chances are he can't, da stupid wanker..." At that moment Race interrupted his practice of ignoring Jack for the boy has just skipped right into an open manhole. "Damned retard!" said Race as he ran to the gaping hole. Peering into it, he heard girlish wimpering. "Pansy!" he called, "You still alive down dere?"  
  
"Yes," came the quavering answer.  
  
"Just my luck. You all in one piece?"  
  
"My arm... it huuuurts! I want my mommy!" A sound suspiciously akin to thumbsucking reached Race's ears. He got some vendors to help Jack out of the hole, deliberately jostling his arm in the meantime. By now Jack had already assumed the sad puppy face and was cradling his right arm. Race rolled his eyes and half-carried the wounded boy into the lodging house.  
  
Later in the evening a young doctor came to examine Jack. When he finished prodding and poking Jack and ignoring the highly female sounding screams, he took Mr. Kloppman aside. The young lad is alright, but his arm has a small fracture. The doctor spoke over Jack's loud objections from the office of the doc's definition of 'alright.' "He'll need to keep the splint on for at least two weeks, and the sling for an additional week." He lowered his voice. "It's not my area of expertise, but I'd reccommend psychiactric help. He seems a bit, er, unstable."  
  
"Try sharing a bathroom with him!" called Snitch, who'd been eavesdropping. With a puzzled and decidedly scared look, the medic said his adieus and tripped out the front door.  
  
Kloppman fetched Race a few minutes later. "Jack keeps calling for you. He's worrying me..." "Even more den usual?" "Yeah, I'd say it's the medication but he doc din' give 'im any. He's in my office. Good luck, and," here he paused and gave Race a meaningful look, "Watch out for yerself, 'lright?"  
  
Race hesitated, with good reason, outside the office door. He finally decided to risk insanity and opened it. "Jack?" he said, "I can't see anything, this room is too moodily lit... SHIT!" he exclaimed as he ran into the heavy desk. "What the fuck is going on??"  
  
"Racetrack, Racetrack Higgins...." A faint, weak voice croaked from the corner. "Yeah?" came the agitated response. "As I lay heah on me deathbed..."  
  
"Cut the crap, Jack, yeh jis' fractured yer goddamn arm, yeh ain't dyin'!" Race gesticulated.  
  
Jack leaned up, ferverently looking around as if to make sure no one had heard. "Shhhh! Yer ruinin' da atmospheah!" he said with gritted teeth. He assumed the sad, sickly mein again and lay back. "As I was sayin', it's lonely heah on me deathbed, me bein' all alone and... lonely. My t'oughts of da otha side's all i gots ta keep me company. I was thinkin' maybe..."  
  
"Jack, I am not gonna play "Let's Experiment With Our Sexuality" with you, for da last time! When will ya take no for an answer?!"  
  
Jack gave him a pompous look and continued. "Ahem! I want you to find me a goil. Or two. Two would be nice..." he said, stroking his... chin. Race promptly gave his answer, and it took Jack five full minutes to realize that when Higgins stalked out and slammed the door, it meant "fuck off and find yerself a goil." It took him another ten minutes to come to a conclusion about that answer. He ran to the door and flung it wide.  
  
"Fine! Fine! I'll find somebody else to satisfy my weak and confused sexual desires!" he stated to the lobby, warranting some very odd and occasionally bored looks from the newsboys who were accustomed to this sort of behavior. 


End file.
